


Don't stand on the Threshold

by eutony_in_a_basket_case



Series: Locklyle [1]
Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: After TEG i guess?, But Lockwood still loves her, Consensual, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Explicit Consent, F/M, Kinky, Light Bondage, Lockwood has the energy of a puppy, Lucy is not a Domme, Lucy's bedroom, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eutony_in_a_basket_case/pseuds/eutony_in_a_basket_case
Summary: Sequel to A Peculiar Afternoon where it's Lockwood being tied up. It's erotica with no plot, so have fun.
Relationships: Lucy Carlyle & Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood
Series: Locklyle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015233
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Don't stand on the Threshold

**Author's Note:**

> You two asked, and I... well, I delivered something. You can't ask much more of me.

Lucy Carlyle had been through quite a lot in her life.  
Living in a world full of ghosts had made her tough and put her in a wide array of life-threatening situations, and ghosts somehow only accounted for half of them. Jumping off rooves, falling through broken floorboards, and angered locals were just a few that came to mind. Normally, she thought of herself as someone who could take it, who was tough.  
Tonight did not feel the same.  
The danger wasn’t the same either. Theoretically, there wasn’t any danger at all.  
She paused at the bottom of the stairs that led to her attic bedroom, frustrated with the anxiety that churned her stomach. She was just going to ask him a question. It wasn’t scary or life threatening or the end of the world.  
Lucy walked briskly to the library, pausing in the doorway, meeting Lockwood’s gaze from where he sat in his armchair, magazine in hand. He smiled tentatively at her, but her statement was interrupted as a tremendous metallic clattering rattled up the stairs from the kitchen.  
“Was that George?” she asked.  
“Has to be,” Lockwood replied.  
“Bets on what he’s dropped,” Lucy goaded.  
Lockwood grabbed her arm, pulling her down to the kitchen with him. “It’ll be the pot that was in front of the kettle that he dropped.”  
“I think it’s the kettle itself,” she replied.  
They poked their heads around the corner into the kitchen. George, red nosed and malcontent, stared down sadly at the pot that still rolled on the floor.  
“It was the pot in front of the kettle!” Lockwood jeered. “You owe me a donut, Luce.”  
“I never agreed to that bet.”  
“Shove off,” George sniffled, rubbing his nose on the arm of his sleeve. “Don’t mock me.”  
Like some great raven, Lockwood swooped in to pick up the fallen pot and usher George into a seat. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. What kind of tea do you want? Chamomile?”  
“Yeah,” George said, pulling his sweater tight around his pajamas as Lockwood put the kettle on. “Thanks.”  
“Feeling any better?” Lucy asked him, pulling down a sleeve of salty crackers from a cupboard and placing them on the table next to him.  
“No. My sinuses no longer feel like they’re exploding, but I am so very tired.” He rubbed at his cheeks. “Do you know if we have any extra cold medicine?”  
“I’ll go check the bathroom,” Lucy said, using her soft slippers on the hardwood to slide out of the kitchen. She returned a minute later, two bottles in hand. “Cold medicine and nighttime cold medicine. You didn’t specify.”  
George considered, huddled in his chair. “Nighttime one.”  
Lockwood’s head swiveled to face their friend. “Are you sure? Last time you took that, you were asleep for nearly twenty hours.”  
“Yeah, and this time you can leave me alone a bit longer and I can set a new record before you start screaming in my face.”  
“If you’re sure.” Lockwood sat the tea and milk in front of George. “Just take it in your room so Lucy doesn’t have to drag you into bed.”  
Lucy scowled at Lockwood. “Well George, you’d better sneeze on Lockwood because I’m not going to be the next one here getting sick.”  
“Hey!” Lockwood protested.  
Lucy just grinned as she slid out of the kitchen once again.  
It occurred to her, very swiftly after she entered the library, expecting to see Lockwood and instead only seeing his empty chair, that she still hadn’t asked him The Question. Cautiously, she picked up the magazine he’d discarded, saw it was one of those trashy gossip magazines he’d pick up whenever he fancied, and knew he’d be back for it. So Lucy perched herself on the couch, picked up one of her own readings, and waited.  
Some while later, she heard George shuffling his way to his room and the warm murmur of Lockwood’s reassurance before a door closed softly. Lucy stared at the page, unable to focus on the words. She wasn’t dreading this conversation necessarily, but she was anxious.  
Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to combat that anxiety as Lockwood strode into the room. His eyes fixed on her almost instantly. He turned on his heel and instead draped himself over the back of the couch, looking down at her.  
“George will be completely out of it soon.” His fingers tapped along the cushion of the old couch almost soundlessly.  
Lucy nonchalantly turned her page, even though she hadn’t finished reading the previous one. “He needs it. He’s been exhausted lately, and it’s not even our fault this time.”  
“He’ll be out for hours. Unawakenable.”  
“Mhmm?” Lucy didn’t have to try to hide her smile. Her nerves from the past few days did that for her.  
It wasn’t often her own thoughts startled her, but that one, the one that now necessitated this conversation with Lockwood, had popped into her head and refused to leave her be.  
Lockwood was silent above her. “What’s wrong, Luce? You’ve been off the last few days.”  
She closed her magazine and looked up at him. “Well. Well, I…”  
He waited silently, patiently. She appreciated that about him. How patient he was whenever something bothered her. Her stomach squeezed.  
“I want to use those ribbons again,” she finally blurted.  
“Alright,” he answered easily.  
“Except on you.”  
“Oh.” A pause. “Alright.”  
“Alright? Alright?” Lucy slapped her book shut and glowered up at him. “I’ve been working up to this for two days and all you’ve got is ‘alright’?”  
He shrugged. “I was worried you were going to say your period was late. This is a much easier conversation to have.”  
“I guess that’s true.” Lucy fidgeted with the paper in her lap.  
“Is this what’s been bothering you lately?”  
“Yeah. It’s nerve wracking to ask you to… do things. To me. For me? I don’t know.”  
He draped an arm over her shoulders. “Because you also work with me?”  
“With you, for you. I tend to defer to you on cases with Holly and George, so I never know if you want me to defer to you all the rest of the time too.” As Lockwood squeezed her shoulder, she held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “It’s not like you make all the decisions here. I know I have a voice in this relationship, I just haven’t felt the need for it much lately. This just feels… different.”  
Lockwood pressed a kiss to her hair. “You can ask anything of me, Luce. I mean, I’ll reserve the right to say no, but you shouldn’t be afraid to ask.”  
“I know. It can just be—” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I think I’ll get over it eventually.”  
She didn’t know how to explain it to him. How it was just easier to follow his lead, to get wrapped up into his fantasies than actually think about what she wanted. She’d wanted things in her life before, and it’s not like she didn’t very much enjoy his ideas. But most of the things she found she wanted were generally overshadowed by necessities and ghosts and her own lack of interest in the specificities.  
She shrugged again. “I thought it’d be fun.”  
“It sounds like fun,” Lockwood admitted. “I was wondering about when they’d get pulled out of your drawer.”  
“Well, George lounging around sick isn’t exactly a great mood setter.”  
Lockwood snorted. “That’s fair.”  
Lucy glanced up at him. “Are you sure you want to give it a go? You don’t have to just because I suggested it.”  
“Should probably try it at least once.” He smiled down at her. “Although, my headboard isn’t exactly suitable for it, so we should probably go to your room again.”  
“That’s fine. Your room is right next to George’s anyway.”  
“Oh, he’ll be completely out of it.”  
“He’ll still be right behind the wall.”  
Lockwood frowned at her. “I thought you liked my room.”  
“Not when George is home.”  
Lockwood dramatically draped a hand over his forehead. “I can’t believe you’re embarrassed to be seen with me. And in our own home!”  
Lucy bit her lip to keep from grinning at him. The anxiety of asking him the Question was mostly gone, leaving vague excitement in its wake. “Excuse me for wanting my private life to be private. I guess I’ll just go back to my room alone.”  
She leapt up from the couch, racing for the door, only to be intercepted by Lockwood’s long arms dragging her back to his chest. She giggled, squirming in his grip, as he hauled her out of the library. Her slippers slid on the carpet as she wrestled against him while trying to not destroy everything in the hallway. She pried his hands away, racing up the stairs to her attic room. Lockwood bounded up the stairs after her, almost slamming the door behind them in his excitement. She pushed him against the closed door, taking her time as she ran her tongue around his lips. His grip on her waist tightened. She dragged her mouth over to the soft spot behind the corner of his jaw, sucking delicately.  
“You’re not going to get to tie me up at this rate,” he moaned, hands sliding down to her hips. “Which, if that wasn’t you—ah! Stop, I’m trying to talk!”  
Lucy chuckled into his neck, pulling her mouth away. “Talk fast.”  
“Are we doing the ribbons tonight or not? It doesn’t matter to me either way, I just want to—Lucy!”  
She was back at the soft underside of his jaw. “Didn’t talk fast enough.”  
“Luce,” he said again, something between a moan and a plead.  
She pulled away, hands on his chest. “Which would you prefer?”  
“This should be your choice—”  
Lucy leaned in on her toes, making sure her nose didn’t quite touch his. “Which would you prefer, Anthony?”  
His breath shuddered underneath her hands. His swallow was audible in the silence. “Ribbons.”  
She pulled back and gestured at the bed. “Then sit.”  
Lockwood slowly sat on the edge of her bed, keenly watching her as she dug around in her junk drawer. She vaguely hoped he was watching her ass as opposed to the horrid state of her room. And particularly this drawer, the one she was up to her elbow in. She called it the junk drawer for a reason. Eventually, her fingers closed around a spare pack of lavender candles. Triumphant, Lucy placed them along her dresser, lighting them with the nearby matches. Above her, along the window, the little silver charms glistened in the warm light.  
She turned back to hm, leaning against the dresser. “Ready?”  
He pulled himself into the middle of the bed, folding his legs under him. “Ready.”  
Her toes curled. “Lay down then.”  
Excitement gleamed in his gaze. He arranged himself against her pillows, fingers bouncing on his chest. Lucy flicked the lights off, leaving them in the flickering warmth. She walked over to her nightstand, pulling out those tempting ribbons. The tension in her abdomen starting coiling as she leaned over him, carefully tying one of his wrists to the iron bedframe. Then, she walked around the bed, watching as his eyes followed her, before picking up his remaining hand and binding that one too.  
“Too tight?”  
Lockwood flexed his wrists experimentally. “The left one is a little loose, actually.” As she reached to adjust it, he hurriedly added, “The other left, actually.”  
“Oh, so your right?”  
“My other left, yes.”  
Lucy rolled her eyes, adjusting the knot. “Better?”  
“Much.”  
She stepped back, sitting on the foot of the bed, kicking off her slippers. She could feel Lockwood watching her. It made her spine tingle. Grabbing her shoes, she stood up and tossed them by the door. Standing had given her a wicked idea though. Keeping her back to Lockwood, she shimmied out of her leggings, adjusting her skirt back to its proper place.  
Resisting the urge to look back at him, she reached underneath her skirt and slid her knickers down her legs. Once she’d stepped out of them, she kicked then to the side, turning to look at him.  
He stared intently at her, not smiling but eyes sparkling above flushes cheeks. Lucy padded over to him, socks lopsided and quiet against the floor. Lockwood watched her the whole way, neck flushing as she climbed onto the bed, onto him, placing a knee on either side of his hips.  
“Still ready?” she asked. To her surprise, her throat was tight. She’d been on the top before, but this felt different. Simultaneously more serious and more playful.  
Lockwood nodded, swallowing. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple drew her attention to his throat. With quick fingers, she undid his tie, tossing it onto the chair in the corner. Her fingers found his shirt buttons and slowly undid the top half. In hindsight, she should have taken off his shirt before binding him, but it was too late for that.  
She bent down, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and kissed the hollow of his throat. Her nose slid along his neck, carrying her over to beneath his ear. His entire body tensed beneath her, an almost inaudible sound escaping his mouth. She could feel his pulse pounding beneath her lips and the featherlight kisses they left along his throat. His chest was warm against her palms as they slid upwards, gripping his hair and jaw.  
Lockwood stifled a sigh, squirming underneath her. She grinned, gently biting his ear lobe. He lifted his hips, trying to grind against hers, but she deftly leaned out of the way. The ridge of his erection hit her thigh instead.  
“So impatient,” she chided, gently pushing his hips back down to the bed.  
Carefully, she lowered herself down on him, weight on her knees. She rocked herself side-to-side against him gently, reaching to undo the last half of his buttons, tracing the lines of his torso. He sighed again, his head leaning back, fingers curled around the headboard. She leaned down again, this time addressing his pronounced collarbone with little licks and kisses. He tensed and relaxed with every touch, clearly trying to keep his breathing even.  
Lucy created a little trail of kisses down his chest as she slid down onto his legs. He was especially sensitive around his hips, she knew, so she tugged at his belt and waistband until the muscular V-shape appeared. His legs tensed beneath her as she placed her mouth against the edge of his hipbone.  
Lockwood moaned loudly, knees squirming beneath her. She pinned them down with her legs, mouth still roaming around his hips. Her hands deftly undid his belt, pulling his pants down just enough to expose more skin, and nothing else. His legs lifted up, his knee finding its way beneath her skirt to rub up against her. She sighed against his skin. The pressure of his knee egged her own, sending a warmth through her belly. She continued sucking on the tender skin below his bellybutton.  
Eventually, she pulled away, smiling at the purple mark left there, and glanced up at him. His head lifted off the pillow, straining to look at her.  
“No, don’t stop,” he whined, rolling his hips beneath her.  
Lucy continued her work, fingers swiftly undoing his button and zipper, pushing them further down his legs. His boxers underneath had a little wet spot on them. Those could stay on though. She simply rolled the waistband down to find new areas to kiss.  
Beneath her, Lockwood moaned softer, but more frequently, holding onto the headboard like it was the only thing keeping tethered to this reality.  
His excitement was contagious. She could feel herself heating up and getting slippery. Her nipples were also peaked. With him tied up like this, she guessed she’d have to do something about them herself.  
With a final, lingering kiss, she climbed off him. His noise of protest quickly died as she grabbed the legs of his pants and pulled them completely off. Then his boxers. She giggled as his member flopped out, bouncing stiffly against his stomach.  
“Don’t laugh at me,” he grumbled, shifting his hips.  
She climbed back up, face level with his. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Just your bouncy friend.”  
His pout deepened, so she kissed it away, gently lowering her own, aching crotch against his. His hips bucked up beneath her, his member hitting against her thigh as he tried, and failed, to slid inside of her. She laughed, pulling away only to have his head snap up to grip her mouth with his own. He bit her lip in the way she liked, lips pressing hard against her teeth.  
“Please,” he whispered, twisting his hips against hers. “Please, Luce…”  
Lucy brushed her hair back. “You’ll have to finish me after if I do it now.”  
He was nodding before she even finished the sentence.  
“Condom or no?” she asked.  
“Did you take the pill this morning?”  
“…Probably.”  
He squinted. “Condom.”  
Lucy reached into her nightstand, ripping the little package open and rolling it down him expertly. Reaching a hand underneath her, she straightened out his cock and easily slid it into her.  
They moaned in near unison. She hadn’t realized how much she craved him before now. His hips were already rolling and bouncing into her. The warm tension rising between her hips threatened to undo her. He bent his legs, providing more power to his thrusts. She slammed her hands down on either side of his head to prevent herself from falling outright, head bowing until their noses touched.  
He kissed her lips, her neck, tongue roaming over her skin as he continued to pound up into her. She gasped, trying to keep her legs from shaking as she struggled to keep up with him. She didn’t want it to stop. Her arm curled around his neck, fisting in his shirt. The head of his shaft was hitting an extremely sensitive spot inside of her.  
It must have been a nice spot for him too. With a loud, shuddering gasp, he clamped his mouth against her shoulder and moaned, hips thrusting sporadically against her as his breathing slowed and his hands relaxed.  
“Aw, so soon?” she asked, brushing his slightly sweaty hair out of his face.  
His response was something between a whine and a grumble. Lucy leaned over to kiss him, soft and lovingly this time. She pulled herself off him, letting his softening member rest between them, thumbs roaming over his cheeks.  
“Good?”  
“Yeah,” he moaned, eyes still half lidded. She reached up to untie him, but he shook his head. “Leave them.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yeah. Why not?” He smirked up at her, mischief in his eyes. “Do you think I can’t finish you off without my hands?”  
“It’s not a challenge, Lockwood!”  
“I know. I want to though. If you’re up for it.”  
Lucy glanced around sheepishly. “How are you planning to do anything?”  
“I have a mouth, don’t I?” His grin widened. “Oh, close your mouth, Luce. We’ve done that before.”  
Lucy bit her lip and rolled to slid her skirt off, thinking about how to arrange herself. In the end, she had to tuck her knees slightly under his arms and lean into the headboard. This position stretched her thighs as she made sure she was low enough for him to reach. The wall greeted her, cold and bare, and Lockwood adjusted his hands and head.  
He was looking straight up between her legs, wasn’t he? Lucy felt her cheeks start to burn. If there was ever a time to be self-conscious, it was now. Should she have shaved? Or even trimmed? At least washed herself three extra times to make sure nothing weird was sticking around. Perfume, maybe?  
He kissed the top of her thighs first, soft and gentle, like the ones he put on her cheeks. He moved his way up slowly, but it still didn’t take him long to reach the inner, more sensitive parts of her. Lucy found her eyes closing, her grip on the iron bars tightening. She had the feeling he was about to be as merciless to her as she had been to him.  
She was right.  
The sensation of his soft lips and wicked tongue against her tender, well, everything, felt brand new. Instead of power, leg clenching and heart pounding, it was more relentless and loving. He made certain his tongue never actually slipped inside of her, just licking the rim as he moved up.  
Lucy rolled her hips, knowing where he was headed, wanting him there. His face was deliciously warm against her, especially after he licked up from her entrance to her clit. It was here he put the majority of his energy, pulling and kissing and ever so gently rubbing his teeth against her. She found herself moaning, head leaning against the wall, stomach clenching.  
She whimpered as he sucked again. It wasn’t the overwhelming sensation of his fingers, but it still sent her legs shaking. Her hand moved up to her breasts kneading them softly. She pressed her cheek against the wall, the rest of her body starting to shake also. She didn’t know what to do with all these feelings, and they didn’t seem to have anywhere to go.  
He pulled his mouth back, his nose brushing against her clit. She gasped suddenly, dimly aware that she was very close to falling on his face as a pulse of release ran through her. The cold wall against her cheek gave her some respite from the waves rolling through her stomach and down her legs. A small, strained noise escaped her throat.  
“Luce?” Lockwood asked. He pressed his cheek against her leg, rubbing it gently. “You okay?”  
“Yeah,” she murmured. She hefted a shaky leg over him before slouching on the bed. “Oh god you’re still tied to the bed.”  
Lockwood laughed as she scrambled to pull the knots apart. “That was not my main concern. You were making some… new noises.”  
She scowled at him. “I don’t have to respond to that.”  
He laughed again, reaching over to wrap his arms around her, nose in her lap. Her fingers tangled in his hair, softly pulling at the curls as she rested her head back. She still throbbed, more sore than aroused this time. Her mind glazed over as she watched the flickering candles and their soft, haphazard shadows across the walls. Her body felt so heavy this time, like jelly seeping into a donut.  
“Lucy?”  
Lockwood was whispering, his hand around her cheek. She blinked, glancing around the dark room. Had she fallen asleep? The candles were out. She missed them. Her mouth dropped and her eyes itched. Lockwood gently pulled her down onto the mattress proper, propping the pillow under her head. She attempted to kick the blanket up over her cold legs but, on her failure, he reached down and yanked the quilt over both of them.  
“Is it okay if I stay?” he asked.  
“Course,” she mumbled, cozying into him.  
He happily tossed an arm over her, nuzzling her nose into her hair. “Okay.”  
She was asleep before he could say anything else.


End file.
